


221 Colors and Flavors 2013 Edition

by MyLittleCornerOfSherlock



Series: 221 Colors and Flavors [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 221B Ficlet, BAMF John, Blow Jobs, Experiment, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Ice Cream, Implied Torture, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Masturbation, Post Reichenbach, Reunion, Sensory Overload, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, colors and flavors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-04
Updated: 2013-11-21
Packaged: 2017-11-28 05:43:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 33
Words: 7,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/670933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyLittleCornerOfSherlock/pseuds/MyLittleCornerOfSherlock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Back by popular demand.  A series of drabbles/ficlets in the 221 words format. I ask people on my tumblr account for colors or flavors and wrote based on those. Some are NSFW.  They do not follow any pattern or time line. Each one can stand alone. Johnlock is the primary theme, but not always sexual in nature.  Rated M because I imagine there will be some sexy times at some point.  Please don't assume each tag is in each work.  I.E. Fluff and implied torture are not in the same ficlet.  So please don't let the tags discourage you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Rosy Pink

**Author's Note:**

> For Beautifullyheeled on Tumblr who's prompt was Rosy Pink.

“Do you know how absolutely fucking gorgeous you are, Sherlock?” John asked as he caressed his lover’s cheek.

Sherlock blushed, his cheeks turning the shade of rosy pink John loved to coax into them.

“You’re exaggerating, John,” he replied. “I am just me, this is how I am supposed to look.”

“And you are the most stunning man I have ever laid eyes on.”

Sherlock’s blush deepened. No one had ever praised him the way John always did. “Brilliant!” “Amazing!” “Fantastic!” Not “Freak”, not “Weirdo”, not “Worthless”, nothing derogatory crossed his lips, unless in a joking fashion in which Sherlock could detect an underlying affection. His unusual looks and grace had also earned him teasing and bullying as he entered adulthood. “Ugly”, “Odd”, and “Strange” were all words he’d heard used in regards to his appearance, even by members of his own family. He had never thought of himself as anything in the looks department. He had long ago locked away any of the emotions he had around those words and what they had done to him.

Yet, here was this wonderful man, who loved him. The whole of him, his mind and his body. John loved him and thought him, Sherlock, the most perfect man for him.

Sherlock sighed and held John tighter to his chest. “I love you too.”


	2. Obsidian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For torchwood221b on tumblr who’s prompt was Obsidian. This features a darker Sherlock than I’ve written before. And, yes, the facts about obsidian are documented and I’ve given them a bit of Sherlockian flair. Enjoy. 
> 
> Trigger Warning: Torture

Sherlock admired the dark, glistening stone knife. Dark as the blackest night, smooth as glass, and sharper than the finest scalpel. An obsidian cut burned like fire but healed quickly and with very little scarring. He could care less for the latter, it was the pain it caused, the clean precise cuts it would make that interested him.

He looked down at the nearly naked blonde man gagged and bound to the table. There was no warmth in either man’s eyes as they looked at each other.

“So, you thought to finish his work did you? To kill the one person most important to me. I think not. I’m sure you’re familiar with how obsidian is made. How appropriate then that someone who thought to finish “burning the heart” out of me should experience the burning sensation of a stone forged from the very heart of volcanic lava. A bit dramatic I know, but then again, I have always been known for my theatrics.” 

Sherlock walked around the table as he spoke. Moran struggled against his bonds, his eyes following Sherlock flicking from his face to the knife. Fear illuminated his eyes as realization dawned on him.

“I’ve had to live in other ‘skins’ because of you. Tonight, you will lose your’s.” Moran’s muffled screams were heard only by the rats.


	3. Cherry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For kriskenshin who's prompt was "Cherry" This one was fun for me to write. John and I apparently share a fondness for maraschino cherries. For much the same reason, but there wasn't room to add how yummy they are too.

John grinned as the waitress set his sundae down in front of him. He plucked off the cherry before settling in to his well deserved treat.

“Really, John?” Sherlock scoffed. “Why the cherry? It’s just there for decoration.”

“It happens to be my favorite part of the sundae, Sherlock,” John laughed.

“Oh, for goodness sake, why? It’s just a bright red cherry with a silly stem,” Sherlock teased.

“I have my reasons. Look, I know sweets aren’t your cup of tea and I thank you for indulging me. Now, tell me about her.” John pointed to a woman sitting at the counter behind Sherlock. 

Sherlock turned around and rattled off a series of simple deductions before turning around to face John again. He was about to chide John for picking someone so simple, when he stopped short in confusion. Sitting across the table from him, grinning like the Cheshire Cat, was John with a knotted cherry stem in his teeth.

“Jo-hn?”

“I told you I had my reasons for why the cherry was my favorite part,” John laughed, handing the knotted stem to Sherlock. “Besides it’s good practice.”

“Practice?”

“What do you think I used to tie the stem?” John winked. Sherlock suddenly had a better appreciation for cherries and John’s exceptional oral skills. 

“Teach me,” Sherlock demanded.

John just grinned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now with art!   
> 


	4. Buttered Popcorn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A prompt from an Anon on tumblr. In which Sherlock hates the smell of popcorn and John is quite the protective one.

There were very few smells that Sherlock absolutely detested. His work involved dead bodies and digging through dumpsters. But the distinct smell of buttered popcorn would waft through the cinema doors, enticing many moviegoers caused him to wrinkle his nose in disgust.

So when this case took them to the local cinema, Sherlock cringed. He and John searched the theaters looking for clues. The smell permeated the place. He just wanted to get this over and get out.

John insisted they be as quiet, but inevitably their presences was noticed. Sherlock felt the first “plink” as John was bent low searching under the front seats with his penlight. That “plink” was followed by a peltering of popcorn as he whipped around glaring at the teenage boys.

“Oi! Freak! Down in front will ya?”

John shot up and stormed down the aisle. He yanked the ringleader up by the collar, and all though Sherlock couldn’t hear the words John whispered in the teenager’s ear he could tell it was extremely effective. John shoved the teenager back down and stalked out. Sherlock followed.

John looked up apologetically. “Here let me get that for you,” he said as he brushed a kernel out of Sherlock’s hair. “Don’t want you smelling up the flat after all.” Sherlock grinned and showed his appreciation with a kiss.


	5. Celadon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Anonymous who’s prompt was Celadon. John decides to take a trip now that winter is over, but he has one last stop to take before he leaves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Anonymous who’s prompt was Celadon. I immediately thought of Frost’s poem when I saw this prompt. See end of the work for the poem.

Winter was finally ending and as the snow and slush began to melt away in London, John decided it was time for a break from the ugliness of London.  It was cold and lonely in the flat these days.  
  
So he told Mrs. Hudson he was taking a holiday.  He called up Bill and asked to borrow his place in the country, packed a bag, and caught a cab.  He had one last stop to make before he left London for the next few weeks.  He asked the cab stop in front of the cemetery and wait for him.  
  
He walked the familiar path towards the lone black headstone.  All around him the signs of spring showed themselves.  The bright purple crocuses peeked through some of the snow patches.  Soft celadon colored leaves were just sprouting from the newly awakened trees.  Daffodils offered small patches sunshine in plant form.  Slowly the world turned from white to green.  Chilling and bitter to warm and golden.  
  
As he reached Sherlock’s grave he muttered under his breath the first line of the poem that had been on repeat in his head for days,  “ _Nature’s first green is gold_.”  
  
“ _Her hardest hue to hold_...I never took you for a fan of Frost, John,” said Sherlock, as he stepped out from behind the nearby tree.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing Gold Can Stay
> 
> Nature's first green is gold,   
> Her hardest hue to hold.   
> Her early leafs a flower;   
> But only so an hour.   
> Then leaf subsides to leaf.   
> So Eden sank to grief,   
> So dawn goes down to day.   
> Nothing gold can stay.  
>  -Robert Frost


	6. Marmite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For foolcariad who's prompt was: Marmite. As I have never had any experience with marmite myself, I was stumped at first. But I hope you'll enjoy with what I came up with. Note: Imagine this is between Hound and Reichenbach.

It was a quiet Sunday in 221B. John relaxed in his chair, enjoying his paper and a cup of his favorite tea. Sherlock was seated at the table in the kitchen working on another of his experiments.

Before John knew what was happening, a blindfold wrapped around his head and Sherlock’s familiar hand was on his shoulder, reassuring him. “JESUS! Sherlock! What the hell?”

“I need your help with an experiment and you can’t see what’s on the table. It would spoil the results,” Sherlock replied matter of factly. “I’m conducting an experiment on how the olfactory receptors affect the taste buds.”

“Dammit, you could have just asked,” John vented as he was led to the table by his flatmate.

“Why would I do that if I already knew you’d say yes? Now I want you to smell an object I place under your nose and open your mouth at the same time. Tell me what you taste.”

John sighed but did as he was told. The sweet, fruity aroma of strawberry jam filled his nose and he waited for the delicious treat. Sherlock shoved something in his mouth. John gagged, spitting out the offending item, and whipped off the blindfold. “NOT funny! Marmite is NOT strawberry jam!”

“I knew it! I knew you can’t fool the senses!” Sherlock shouted gleefully.


	7. Pancakes and Bacon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the morning after their wedding....

“Breakfast in bed? Isn’t that a bit cliche? Especially for you, Sherlock.” John chuckled a bit at his new husband. He watched Sherlock set the tray loaded with pancakes, bacon, juice, coffee, and even a small rose in a bud vase. He actually looked a bit nervous.

“I just wanted our married life to start off right,” Sherlock fidgeted. “I’m not perfect, I’m going to make mistakes, I’m really going to screw things up sometimes and I know it. Let me at least try to get this part right. You do like pancakes and bacon? Right?”

There was something very endearing about an unsure Sherlock. John picked up the tray and set it on the floor. “Come here.”

Sherlock climbed into bed and laid his head down on John’s shoulder as John wrapped his arms around him. “I know our life won’t be an easy one. That there will be sleepless nights, frantic chases through London, yelling matches even,” Sherlock scoffed at the last one. John continued, “But when I said I’d marry you, and look I did, I already knew all of this. I know you, Sherlock. I KNOW you. You started our married life off right when you sealed our vows with a kiss. Now then, how about you kiss me again and let’s start this morning off right.”


	8. Cinnamon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For an Anonymous prompt on tumblr: Cinnamon

John was never quite sure why he liked Sherlock’s particular brand of cologne. Well, brand would be a misnomer. It was something Sherlock started brewing up himself not long after they became flatmates. John could easily identify cinnamon and vanilla but others that were familiar those took him a little longer. There was a dusky earthy scent of bow rosin and underlying bergamot reminding him of his favorite brand of Earl Grey. It was a blend uniquely suited to Sherlock. And one that, strangely enough, aroused him. 

It would be months later, when John had Sherlock pinned against the wall, one hand unbuttoning Sherlock’s shirt, the other around the back of his head, sucking on Sherlock’s lower lip, that John would finally taste Sherlock’s skin. His mouth found the tender pulse point at the hollow of Sherlock’s neck. That was where Sherlock would apply the aromatic blend he had concocted. With past partner’s the taste of their perfume was bitter. With Sherlock, John tasted heat (cinnamon), passion (vanilla), seduction (bow rosin), and home (his tea). Nothing bitter, and he only wanted to taste more.

They lay panting, bare skin slick from their lovemaking, both men tired but happy. Sherlock smiled to himself. Aromatherapy may not be exactly a proven science. But for him, the proof lay happily drowsing next to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Cinnamon and Vanilla are both known to promote mental acuity and memory, but are also known aphrodisiacs. The other two scents are meant to be Sherlock and John. By blending the four, Sherlock hoped to entice John into seeing that they meant to be together. Remember this is Sherlock, and approaches things differently. And that John has cared about him from the start, this was just a little "sensory" push.


	9. Chocolate Covered Strawberries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For tumblr's torchwood221b, who's prompt was chocolate covered strawberries. I swear I need more than 221 words to write proper smut, but here's another feeble attempt.

Sherlock had a fondness for sweets. Not that anyone besides John knew. It was one of their little secrets. He especially enjoyed the sweets John would make for him. And his absolute favorite were John’s chocolate covered strawberries.

The proclivity for those particular treats had just as much to do with the preparation of the fruit as actually enjoying the finished product. He loved to watch John move around the kitchen prepping the berries, melting the chocolate, and setting up the tray to lay them on, humming all the while. 

On this occasion, John made a show of dipping the bright red fruit into the dark melted chocolate, occasionally making eye contact with Sherlock and giving him a wink. When he finished and slid the tray into the fridge to cool, Sherlock had silently slid up behind him so that when John turned around he was right there. With an impish gleam in his eye, he brought one chocolate covered finger to his mouth and begin to slowly lick and suck each of John’s fingers clean. 

When he had finished, he knelt and undid both his and John’s flies. Grabbing his cock in one hand and taking John’s in his mouth, he slowly stroked and teased himself as he brought John to a shuddering climax, before following him over the edge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now with art!!!   
>   
> Many thanks to purpleandorangesheep! Their art style was what was in my head when I wrote this. :D


	10. Wildberry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For ninjasherlock on tumblr who's prompt was "wildberry" I had a good bit of a chuckle writing this one.

Food was flying everywhere. Cupcakes and various other confectionaries were ammo instead of bullets. It was ridiculous. Not to mention sticky and messy. John was briefly reminded of an old Three Stooges film he’d seen years ago. He and Sherlock were ducking for cover and returning “fire” with handfuls of cake and pie. For all his distaste of food, Sherlock had a look of pure glee on his face.

“Don’t tell me you’re enjoying this!” John said wiping a sticky glob of pie filling out of his eye.

“Of course I am! A food fight! So much more interesting than a boring exchange of gunfire any day!” Sherlock said, oblivious flour caking his hair and face. “A shame Mycroft is missing out. He’d hate to see all this cake go to waste.”

John burst into a fit of giggles, “Sherlock! Stop it,” he said as he hurled another donut at the baker and his assistant. “We have to keep these guys here until Lestrade arrives!”

John saw the sudden gleam in Sherlock’s eyes, knowing what was coming next, followed Sherlock over the table to pounce on their foes. Sherlock was smashed in the face with a wildberry cobbler before John took down the assistant. Over the chaos, John heard Sherlock say, “This is really quite delicious, you should get the recipe!”


	11. Gold

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For over-heatin-truck-drivin-girl on tumblr, who's prompt was Gold. Please forgive the multiple uses of the word "gold" in today's prompt, but I feel it works well. I hope you enjoy, as always.

Gold is more than just a shiny precious metal. Gold are the rays of sunshine that frame Sherlock as he stands, oblivious, at the window playing his violin. Golden are the notes that flow from the instrument as they float, lilting through the flat. It’s the warmth in his belly, when Sherlock turns and smiles the smile that is only reserved for John.

Gold is more than trinkets and treasures. Gold is the praise that rains down on him from John. Gold is the way the light hit’s John’s hair, illuminating and giving him a false (is it false?) halo. Golden is the warm feeling in his chest to be cared for and accepted by such a man as John.

More precious than gold are the first stolen moments from the world. The brush of fingers, a quick intake of breath, a shared glance, both men left wondering. Then the following, hesitant kiss, chaste between them at first, before the golden warmth they have both felt flows between them, tasting of sweet honey and spicy cinnamon. Bright golden fireworks explode behind closed eyelids. Eyes fly open, the kiss breaks, both men gasping, breathing hard, the air heavy and intoxicating. 

“John.” “Sherlock.” Their names on each others lips, the feeling of golden silk sliding over their skin. 

“Bedroom’s that way.” “Let’s go.”


	12. Aubergine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from mcxi on tumblr and based on an image found on this site: http://prestonblake.com/58201/63201.html  
> 

It had been a very long day at the clinic and all John wanted to do when he got back to the flat was have a nice cuppa and relax. He said a silent prayer as he walked up the stairs to the flat that Sherlock’s phone would remain blessedly silent so they wouldn’t have to go dashing out into the dark of London.

All hopes of a quiet peaceful night were dashed as he opened the door of 221B. His face went immediately from weary doctor to horrified shock. The lovely black and white wallpaper was an odd shade of aubergine and black. In fact, most of the living area was covered in a thin layer of an aubergine substance. John, mouth still open in shock, dragged his finger over the closest shelf. He held up his finger and examined the sticky substance. “SHERLOCK!!” he finally managed to yell out. “Where the bloody hell are you?!”

A voice from the kitchen called out, “It was an experiment, John. For science.” 

“Do I even want to know?” John replied, storming into the kitchen before coming to a complete stop. There before him, covered head to toe in the sticky substance, was a very purple, very ridiculous looking Sherlock. “Don’t just stand there! Help me clean this up before Mrs. Hudson sees!”


	13. Curry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For an Anonymous on tumblr who’s prompt was Curry. I find myself straying from the actual flavors and colors sometimes, using the prompt as a basis to start. So it went with today’s. I think I might explore this one further some day.

Sherlock preferred the mellow sweetness of green curry, John liked the spicy tang of red curry. Sherlock opted for peppermint, while John liked cinnamon. Sherlock favored Autumn and Winter, John was more of a Spring and Summer man. Ice and Fire the two men were. Near polar opposites in all manner of things. And as with magnets, opposites attract. When one magnet attracts another, North does not attract North. It is a slow pull between North and South, until the last sudden rush where they come crashing into one another.

So it was with Sherlock and John. It was a slow build. The occasional brush of fingers as papers are passed between them, turns into a lingering hand on someone’s arm when looking over their shoulder. A toss of the coat changes into a “Here let me hold that for you.” Until one day, the air is heavy and thick as John reaches to brush the lint off the lapel of Sherlock’s jacket. His hand freezes, their eyes make contact, and the magnets crash. He grabs Sherlock’s collar and pulls him down, lips crashing. No gentle first kiss for Fire and Ice. No! There is desperation and want, a thousand days worth of sexual tension has built to this moment. Buttons are ripped, shirts are flung, as Fire and Ice meld.


	14. Strawberry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For katsaysmeh on tumblr who's prompt was Strawberry.

Mrs. Hudson tsked as John licked at his chapped lips. Being the mothering type that she was, she reached into her purse and pulled out a spare tube of lip balm. 

“Here, luv. Do yourself and favor, and use this.”

John barely managed to utter a quick thanks before Sherlock came rushing down the stairs, “A case, John!” John pocketed the tube and dashed out behind the detective.

As he stepped out of the cab, a blast of icy wind cut through him, and he was reminded of Mrs. Hudson’s gift. He quickly applied a layer and followed Sherlock. 

Sherlock began examining the body, rattling off his observations, but kept glancing quizzically at John. With a final, “How cliche...pick up the butler,” Sherlock grabbed John’s wrist and dragged him out the door into the narrow alleyway. 

“You smell...fruity? It’s quite distracting,” Sherlock sniffed at John. John licked his lips nervously, and suddenly he tasted it. He rolled his eyes.

“Mrs. Hudson’s lip balm. It’s flavored apparently.”

Sherlock inched closer. “What flavor? No don’t tell me. Let me figure it out on my own.”

And with that, he leaned in and stole a kiss. John’s eyes went wide, before pulling Sherlock in closer. Finally, breathless, Sherlock pulled away, “Strawberry” he whispered, as he leaned back in to confirm his deduction.


	15. Purple

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For sherlock-is-my-bby and cumberbabe2552 on tumblr, who both sent me "Purple" as a prompt at the same time. This is a hurt/comfort ficlet.

“Idiot!” thought John, a tear rolling down his cheek during his bedside vigil. The harsh hospital lights lit the small room where Sherlock lay. The detective had seemed indestructible. The purple bruises on his face, swollen eye, broken arm, and various internal injuries all proved otherwise. 

He shouldn't have gone running off after the suspect by himself. At least he’d had the forethought to text John with a one word location. But by the time he and Lestrade got there, a broken and unconscious Sherlock lay on the ground, barely breathing. No one knew what had happened, and the man that could tell them hadn’t woken up yet. John sat holding Sherlock’s hand in his, gently rubbing the bruised knuckles.

“Please wake up, Sherlock!” John pleaded. He was a doctor, he knew the longer a person remained unconscious the higher the probability of brain damage or even not waking up at all. He hadn’t left Sherlock’s side in two days, talking to him the whole time, knowing instinctively Sherlock had to hear him.

It was late and he was tired. John rested his head on the edge of Sherlock’s bed. “I’m here, Sherlock. I’m not going to leave, so don’t you dare leave me.”

He felt a weight on his head, as long fingers stroked his hair. “I wouldn’t dare, John.”


	16. Green

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For hopelesslybenaddicted on tumblr, who's prompt was "Green"

Green became John’s favorite color while he was in the desert. When stationed in a barren, dry land with very little foliage, you realize just how much you miss the color green. He missed it so much that when someone would open up a care package from home and there would be a postcard or a picture of the glens and lochs back home, his heart would ache. He would write to Harry, beg her for pictures of spring and summer. She obliged him when she would remember.

Being invalided home had one advantage, he got to see the green of the trees and grass again,. That’s why he was walking in the park that day he ran into Mike. It had been stressful talking to Ella, and seeing the green of the park sometimes could help settle him.

So, when he walked into the lab at Barts, had those pale spring-green eyes lock onto him, he had forgotten to breathe for a moment. Then when the owner of those vivid eyes listed the ways he’d known he’d been in the war, he had been both shocked and relieved. Shocked that a stranger could know so much, and relieved that this man didn’t pity him. He needed to know more about this unique man with his verdant eyes, one Sherlock Holmes.


	17. Silver

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For cumberbabe2552 on tumblr, who's prompt was "Silver"

He fingered the round silver dog tags that hung around his neck. So much more than insignificant pieces of metal. They had lived through hell with John, scratched by sand, tarnished by sweat, polished with care, they told the military history of John’s life. They were just as much a part of John as his scar was.

He held them up, watching as the polished metal glinted in the sunlight. They swayed gently against his fingers. He smiled, remembering. Sherlock brought the tags to his lips and gave them a reverent kiss. 

He was never the kind of man to wear a ring. He wasn’t one for trinkets but he had asked John for something to symbolize their relationship. Even if no one knew but the two of them. John had surprised him the next morning in bed. Sherlock had been awoken by the feel of the cool chain against his skin and John smiling down at him as he placed the dog tags over his neck. John’s way of saying, “I love you.”

Now, John stood in the doorway adjusting his watch, his token from Sherlock. It was silver and engraved on the back was a matching set of information that was on John’s dog tags, except with Sherlock’s own information. His very own way of saying “I love you.”


	18. Black Coffee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For mint-chocolategelato, on tumblr, who's prompt was "black coffee" I'll just leave you, the readers, to fill in the blank at the end. *evil grin*

Sherlock flinched inwardly, tasting the bitter black liquid. How could John stomach black coffee? He considered adding sugar, but when he looked up, the man he was tailing was already walking out the door. Shit, Sherlock thought. He grabbed his coffee, pulled up his hoodie and dashed out after the man, trying to look as nondescript as possible.

He followed the blonde man at a reasonable distance, doing his best to look unobtrusive. The man completed his mundane tasks. The man’s routine was so predictable you could set your watch by it. This sameness, this everydayness. Sherlock was so tired of it. He was ready for it to be over so he could go back to his old life. The man looked up, glancing around with his light blue eyes, suspicious.

They locked eyes. He made Sherlock and took off at a run. Sherlock threw down the coffee and took off after him. He couldn’t lose Moran now. He ran around the corner and found himself face to face with the sniper and his gun. 

CRACK! The shot rang out, Sherlock winced, expecting to feel the pain of a bullet wound. Instead he saw Moran crumple to the ground. He whirled around to find John standing behind him, gun in hand by his side. 

“How?” the word tumbled out in unison.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of course *I* know how.


	19. Coriander

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For moxiangel on tumblr, who's prompt was "coriander"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Be sure to read "Cinnamon" first, if you haven't already as it's sort of a prequel. http://archiveofourown.org/works/670933/chapters/1251448

Sherlock had developed a knack for making cologne. He could pick out the perfect aromas to enhance a person’s own unique scent. But, truthfully, he only made cologne for two people, himself (we all know how successful that turned out) and now John. 

He had grown tired of John’s commonplace cologne. John was unique and an enigma, in that he never failed to surprise Sherlock his capacity for tolerance and acceptance of Sherlock. So Sherlock set out to make John his own unique blend. It had to accent both John’s scent and Sherlock’s own perfectly blended cologne.

Sherlock’s own blend was heady and seductive. much like the man himself could be. John’s was crisp and efficient, with a definite undertone of lust. Willow bark, coriander, sandalwood, and allspice were distilled down to the perfect concentration. Willow’s clean scent reminded Sherlock of his doctor. Coriander’s bright aroma, because John was his beacon of light. Sandalwood brought a rich and woody scent that evoked of the glens of Scotland. And Allspice accented Sherlock’s own cinnamon to perfection. It also didn’t hurt that three of the four scents were known aphrodisiacs.

They learned quickly that they both shouldn’t wear their colognes at the same time. Their combined scents tended to lead to some very awkward, “Sorry, not interested” conversations with members of both genders.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not my best work, I'm so sorry!


	20. Cherry (color)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here comes some of the rated M stuff I promised. For Cumberbabe2552 on tumblr who's prompt was Cherry. Since I already did a Cherry flavor, here's a Cherry color ficlet. This is based on my love of the rope art bondage of Shibari. Enjoy.

John fingered the soft cotton ropes, admiring his work. Their bright cherry color stood out in stark contrast to Sherlock’s pale skin. They wrapped gracefully around his skin. Sherlock made for a very decadent canvas. Long, lean, hard lines were artfully framed by curving, twining rope. One circled Sherlock’s waist, looped through a knot around his neck, pulled his arms tight behind his back arching him forward just so. Another joined the rope at the waist, framed his hips and ass. A matching red silk scarf served as a figurative gag. John smiled at Sherlock as he caressed Sherlock’s cheek. A tender look passed between them.

“You make a beautiful sight. A shame no one else gets to see. But I’m not a man who shares, so I’ll just bask in the fact that you, like this is a sight for me and me alone.”

John’s hand slowly trailed down Sherlock’s neck and over his chest. He could feel Sherlock’s heart beating hard and the sharp intake of breath. John walked around the bound man, admiring his handiwork from behind. He grabbed Sherlock’s hips, pulling Sherlock against him. His own hard cock slipped between Sherlock’s cheeks and as he held Sherlock in place with one hand and reached around to grab Sherlock’s cock with the other, Sherlock groaned in obvious pleasure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now with art by the talented and marvelous KrisKinshen....  
> 


	21. Indigo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Anonymous on tumblr who's prompt was Indigo. I went a bit on the science side and a little dark for this one.

Interrogating the man tied to the chair in the flat had yielded little information on John’s whereabouts. He grinned at Sherlock through his bloody lip and black eye. 

“You’ll never find him in time,” he laughed.

Sherlock whirled around, his face dark in his fury. There must be someway to get the answers he sought quicker. His eyes fell on the man’s shoes. Sherlock dashed into the kitchen, returning a few seconds later with two small strips of paper. He pressed one strip of each of the litmus papers to the soles of the man’s shoes. They each turned a shade of dark indigo. 

Sherlock looked at the man, “You had best hope that I find John in time. For if I don’t, you will not only have me to answer to, but the British Government is quite fond of his brother in law.” And with that Sherlock took off towards the paper mill. The pulp he had noticed on the tread and confirmation of lye on the abductor’s shoes were all he needed to know where John was being held. 

He raced through the streets and back alleys, sending texts off to Lestrade and Mycroft. When it came to John’s safety, Sherlock took no chances. He arrived first, to find John suspended, arms above over his head, unconscious but alive.


	22. Lemon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For cumberbabe2552 on tumblr who's prompt was Lemon. Today I make my first venture into parent!lock

Hamish grinned surrounded by scraps of white paper. Sherlock watched his son with an affectionate twinkle in his eye that was reserved for only two people. The other was on his way home from work.

Hamish held up a blank piece of paper. “This one’s for you Father. And this one’s for Papa.” He made a list of people his little gifts were for. When Hamish heard the key in the lock he looked up delighted. “Papa’s home!” 

The little boy grabbed the sheet designated for John and ran to greet him. “Papa! This is for you!”

“Hiya, boyo! What have you got?” John asked as he scooped up his son. Hamish looked on expectantly as John examined the piece of paper Hamish’s little hands had shoved into his, and John walked over to give Sherlock a kiss. “What’s this? What have you two been up to today?”

“Oh we’ve had lots of fun! I made all of these,” Hamish proudly waved his hands around at the papers. “Father said you’d be able to figure it out.”

“He did, did he?” John examined the papers, while Sherlock looked on with that twinkle.

John winked at Sherlock as he held the paper over the light bulb, revealing Hamish’s drawing of the three of them. “Been playing with lemon juice today, I see?”


	23. Blood Orange

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For homosociallyyours on tumblr, who's prompt was "Blood Orange". John celebrates his birthday how he wants to.

“Because it’s my birthday and I want to, that’s why.”

John’s go to response today whenever Sherlock asked him “Why?” John had invited Sherlock to the various activities he’d planned for himself, and Sherlock had turned him down. Race car driving, a hot air balloon ride, dinner at a new restaurant in town, and now he was heading out for drinks. John had opened his mouth to ask Sherlock if he wanted to join him for the last one, but snapped it shut, knowing better. 

It was several hours later before John came home. He stumbled into Sherlock as they crossed paths in the living area. Sherlock caught John as he bounced off him, managing to get a whiff of the alcohol of choice that night.

“Blood orange liqueur, John? Really?”

 

“It’s my birthday!” John slurred slightly.

“So you’ve been saying all day, but why that particular flavour?”

“Haven’t you noticed, you great observant git?” John asked, suddenly appearing slightly more sober than Sherlock gave him credit for. “All the things I’ve done today are things I’ve never tried before. And I’ve checked off all but one on my list.”

The next thing Sherlock knew, John’s lips were pressed to his.

“Actually I did, I’m just surprised you waited all day for this one.” Sherlock grinned down at the birthday boy.


	24. Offal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For torchwood221b who's prompt was "offal". Offal are the organ meats of animals not usually eaten. Trigger warning for reference to mild gore in this chapter. Please skip if it is a trigger. I won't be offended, promise.

“Offal is awful stuff,” John said trying not to crack a grin.

“Really, John? That is one of the most horrid puns I’ve ever heard. And coming from a man whose ancestors helped invent the Scottish ‘delight’ known as haggis.” Sherlock stepped over the latest victim. They were investigating a series of killings deemed by the press as “The Butchered Butchers”

“Speaking of horrid,” John asked, “Why do you think he leaves the offal like that?” He pointed at the organs of the animals left in place of the victims stolen ones.

“He thinks he’s being poetic. Take a heart, leave a heart, take a kidney, leave a kidney, take a liver, leave a -” Sherlock stopped short, eyes widening. “JOHN!” he exclaimed, “There’s no liver. Quick, check the autopsy reports of the other victims.”

John skimmed through the files on his phone. “No, Sherlock. No livers left at any of the other crime scenes.”

Sherlock shook his head. How could he have missed that in the reports? “Have there been any offal from geese?” Another quick search affirmed that there had been remains from cows, ducks, sheep, and pigs, but not geese.

The puzzle fell into place for Sherlock. “I’m not sure what’s worse,” he said to John as he texted Lestrade where to look next, “Haggis or Foie Gras”


	25. Opal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For a Nonny on tumblr who's prompt was "Opal" A short smutty bit for you all. Another reason this is rated M

Sex. A full sensory experience. Taste, touch, sight, smell, sound, every sense overwhelmed in the moment, culminating in what was supposed to be the ultimate event, the orgasm. But before John, Sherlock had never experienced anything more than a let down moment of relief. No shocking tremors, no weak knees, no blinding flashes behind closed eyes. Even in his rare moments of self pleasure, it was just to get the damn distracting hardness to subside.

Enter John; unassuming, confident, sure, patient, and yet still, the most amazing and sexually arousing person he’d ever met.

Sherlock lay on the bed, his eyes closed, losing himself in the moment. He felt the beads of sweat drop from John onto his belly with each thrust into him. The feel of the sheets beneath his fingers as he dug in rising to meet John. John’s hand wrapped around his cock, each stroke mirroring John’s deep thrusts inside him. He moaned, John’s name an irreverent prayer on his lips. John’s low raspy answer of “Yes, Sherlock, yes” bringing him closer and closer to the penultimate moment. He felt John reach it first, spilling himself inside Sherlock. Unable to contain himself any longer, Sherlock groaned,the whole universe exploding behind his eyes, white and opalescent sparks of light radiating out and back into blissful post orgasmic darkness.


	26. Chartreuse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For wearitcounts. I had to ask her to clarify which color (more yellow or more green) chartreuse she was thinking of. She said more along the lines of absinthe and well…enjoy the cracktastic 221 that follows.

John hiccuped looking at his glass, the green liquid sparkling in the firelight. He and Sherlock had been gifted a bottle of Absinthe from a grateful client. Somehow he had managed to convince Sherlock to indulge in the extravagant gift and they were both more than a bit tipsy.

Sherlock was lounging, indolent, on the sofa mumbling something about the process of how Absinthe was made and how dull it was that it no longer produced the hallucinations it used to. John chuckled, shaking his head at how, even drunk, brilliant his flatmate was.

John turned his attention back to the chartreuse drink, trying to contemplate something brilliant himself. An idea struck him.

“Shur’lock!” he slurred, “I wan’ ya to play something for me”

Sherlock turned, gave him a fuzzy look, and pulled out his violin, “Okay, but only because you’re cute.” Sherlock pointed the bow at John as he emphasized “cute”.

“What do you want to hear?” Sherlock asked as he stood up unsteadily.

John started humming the tune that had come to mind. Sherlock picked it up quickly. “Waz’it?” he asked John.

John started singing in a deep but squeaky voice, “It’s not that easy being green...”

John paused remembering why he picked the song, “Kermit is the color of absinthe, isn’t that odd?”

“Wait. Who’s Kermit?” Sherlock asked.


	27. Burnt Umber

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For willietheplaidjacket who's prompt was Burnt Umber. A bit of a different post-Reichenbach take.

The sun moved across the sky, sinking slowly on the horizon. The desert sands changed colors, from the pale yellow ocher, to the darker burnt umber as the sun set. Hidden, John offered a sip from his canteen to the tall, pale man next to him. Sherlock shook his head in silent refusal, his eyes locked on the sole building in the area. John shrugged as they waited. 

The waiting nothing new to him. In his former life as a soldier, he’d done plenty of recon missions. In fact, he was familiar with that particular. Ironic, that Moran should choose that building as his last stand. It was in front of that very building, John had taken a bullet in the shoulder.

Sherlock reached out his hand for John’s. John squeezed his hand, reassuring him. John knew what was going through the other man’s mind. Sherlock had never once regretted coming back to collect John and bring him along hunting down Moriarty’s second in command. But Sherlock knew what this place was and the memories it carried for John. Memories of pain, blood, and fear. When he’s had nightmares, it is of this place.

Out of the shadows, they saw a quick flash of light as someone lit their cigarette.

“Ready?” 

“Ready.”

Silently they moved forward, ready to end the hunt.


	28. Musgravite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For torchwood221b, who’s prompt was Musgravite. I’m dipping my toe into another AU. I know that different games have “soulstones” but this is just out of my head.

John held the box, his hands shaking, and tears slowly falling down his cheeks. Everyone knew this was the final part of saying goodbye to a loved one. The receiving of the individual’s soulstone. Upon death, the soulstone was bequeathed the most important person in the deceased’s life and the soulstone told the life story of the person it had belonged to. John was honored to be the recipient of Sherlock’s soulstone. He nodded his wordless thanks to Mycroft. Mycroft smiled sadly and left the flat.

John sat in his chair, not quite ready to open the box and hear what the precious soulstone had to tell him. He had seen Sherlock’s only once. It wasn’t something you showed to just anyone. But it had been Sherlock’s peace offering after Baskerville. It was a fitting stone for Sherlock. Musgravite. One of the rarest of stones, a deep smokey purple, starbursts radiating out. John had wanted to touch it, caress the facets, hold it close. But touching a soulstone is an intimate affair and Sherlock had not offered that.

Now, John had his chance. He sighed, swallowing a sob as he opened the box, revealing the precious stone. John’s heart lept at what he saw. What was in the box wasn’t musgravite at all, but a common amethyst! Sherlock must be alive!


	29. Lavender

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For camillekaze who's prompt was Lavender. I wanted to do so much more with this, but alas, 221 words is 221 words.

John heard the tone of the fight between the Holmes brothers escalating. By the time he had managed to make his way down the staircase of the Holmes manor where they were all staying, Sherlock was already rushing out the back door. Very few people would have recognized the hurt there, but John did. John cornered the elder brother before he could skulk off to his room.

“What the hell was that all about?” John growled.

Mycroft looked down at the fuming blond man. “Hmm, I was obviously wrong in my accusation, Dr. Watson. You’ll find him in Mummy’s garden.” Mycroft stepped around the confused doctor and walked out of the hallway.

John opened the door to the heady scent of lavender. He followed the lovely cultivated path until he reached the expanse of purple flowers. Sherlock was sitting under a tree. John walked up to and silently sat down next to him. Unexpectedly, Sherlock grabbed his hand.

“They say the scent is supposed to calm one’s mind. It’s never worked for me,” Sherlock started, “The only thing that has helped calm my mind has been you. Mycroft believes that you’ll eventually leave. I’m not sure what I’ll do if that happens.”

John squeezed Sherlock’s hand in reassurance, “I’m not going anywhere, other than to punch your brother in the face.”


	30. Roobis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For patternofdefiance who's prompt was Roobis. Um...I apologize in advance.

John sat, fingering the teacup Mrs. Hudson had placed in front of him. He couldn’t quite bring himself to take a sip.  He hadn’t had anything to eat or drink since he received the text the night before.

_John, I’m back.  I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you before now. If you want to know why and how, meet me tomorrow for tea where London would fall if they left.  If not, consider this my apology and final goodbye. -SH_

John had raged at the text.  Trust Sherlock to be cryptic, apologetic, and an ass all in one message.  Then he’d cried, because dammit, Sherlock was alive, just like he’d always hoped but hadn’t dared believe.

Now, John sat opposite the man with nothing to say.  He waited, because he needed to hear _why_ before he could consider forgiving him.  He waited because it wasn’t his place to speak first, not when Sherlock had been the one to initiate the long painful silence.  It was up to Sherlock to take that step.

John finally took a sip of his tea.  He sputtered. “What kind of tea is this?”

“Roobis,” Sherlock looked confused, “I wanted you to try something I grew fond of while I was gone.”

“Was this your way of getting me to say something first?” John asked

Sherlock merely smiled.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *sorry sorry sorry I couldn't help making something angsty a bit silly*


	31. Falu Red

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For QueerSherlockian who won my giveaway on tumblr. Their prompt was Falu Red

John stared. He adjusted his backpack, walking stick in hand. Surely this couldn’t be the place he was looking for.  It was so plain, set unobtrusively against the Swedish hillside.  And so not what he’d expected.

There was a stone wall that separated the small cabin from the drive leading up to it.  In front there were trees, that didn’t really hide the building so much as framed it.  The building itself was falu red, a bright color traditional for the region. There were small windows and a chimney with a faint wispy plume of smoke coming out of it.  The grass was lush and there was a faint path where someone had made a habit of walking beneath the trees. The roof was copper and John imagined the melodic, calming sounds it must make when it rained.  All in all it looked like a very peaceful, homey place.  Perhaps, this was exactly what he was looking for.

The gravel crunched under his feet as he made his way to the front door.  When he raised his hand to knock, the butterflies that had been absent before fluttered in his stomach.  The door opened, of course he hadn’t made it here unobserved, but the look of shock on the occupant’s face told him he was unexpected.

“Hello Sherlock,” he said quietly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Image reference used:  
> http://www.toptenz.net/wp-content/uploads/2009/12/496952495_e936f5fb64_b.jpg
> 
> I imagine this is John finding him. Sherlock having finished and removed himself from the world, trying to find a way to find peace and not have to deal with people anymore. After all he's been through he just wants peace. And he's unsure if John would have him back, so he secludes himself. I'm unclear if John is told by Mycroft of if he figured it out himself. But he had no help from Mycroft in finding the place. He tracked Sherlock down on his own. I hope you enjoyed it.


	32. Glaucous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For WillieThePlaidJacket who won second place in my giveaway on tumblr. Their prompt was Glaucous

Sherlock sat on the edge of the cliff, staring at the glaucous sky and the gulls calling to one another.  He closed his eyes, letting the wind whip around him, his hair more disheveled than usual, flicking against his face.  He listened to the sea crashing against the rocks below.  Whirling torrents of sea spray that could almost reach him.  This had once been the one place his mind could be stilled.  In the contrasting elements of raging, rushing air and water, the calm heat of the sun on his back and steady firm earth beneath him, his own unceasing thoughts battling in his mind had stilled to a quiet whisper. Hopefully it could help again.

John stood back, watching the detective’s peaceful face.  Even though Sherlock had promised him this was safe, John now always had a sense of unease around Sherlock and heights.  But if this place could offer Sherlock some solace, John would drag him here every chance they got.  Sherlock told John that he’d tried to delete the memories, the faces of those men and women he’d taken down trying to protect John and the people he cared about, but for some reason he couldn’t and those faces haunted him.

John walked up behind the detective and wrapped his arms around Sherlock’s waist.

“Better?” he asked.

“Much.”


	33. Chocolate

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For halfwolf-tk. They won third place in my giveaway on tumblr and their prompt was Chocolate.

“Ah! Yes! Perfect!  I was in need of a new experiment.” Sherlock snatched the box out of John hands and dashed into the kitchen.

John stared at his empty hands, shaking his head.

“Uh, Sherlock,” he followed the other man into the kitchen, “Those aren’t for you to experiment on.”

Sherlock looked back and forth between the box and John, confused.  “But...I asked you to pick up something I had not previously experimented with before.  I don’t recall ever having used these in one of my experiments.”  He shook the box in John’s direction and appeared startled by the sound.

John chuckled.  “Don’t tell me you deleted ‘chocolates’ from that brain of yours?” He poked a finger on Sherlock’s forehead. “Besides, I’ve been out all day, you couldn’t have asked me.”

“Of course I didn’t delete chocolate,” Sherlock huffed, “Well, maybe chocolates as whatever these are, but I know what chocolate is.”  He paused.  “But if you didn’t bring these back for me to experiment on, why did you purchase them?”

John smiled, the one that was specifically reserved for Sherlock, the one that made him a bit weak in the knees.  “I have other plans for those chocolates.  Ones that involve you in less clothes and me enjoying the way they melt and taste on that skin of yours.”

**Author's Note:**

> If you would like to offer a prompt for this series, please follow me on tumblr and look for the prompt requests. I generally post one a day.


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